partner in crime, partner of mine
by TalkingToTulips
Summary: "I have something to show you." Genevieve told him, her eyes on his as he took a final sip of his whiskey. "But first, I need to know a few things, I need reassurances that this will be worth my troubles." - AU from 1x14 Klaus/Genevieve


**So here we go with another Klenevieve one shot. This one is set after 1x14 but veers off from canon there. Thanks to the wifey for getting me through this and I dedicate this one shot to her and Mandy who shipped this with me when it was just a little crack ship.**

**Expect murder, gore, drink and drug and sex in places that could be deemed 'public'**

* * *

_The head never rules the heart, but just becomes its partner in crime._

_- Mignon McLaughlin_

Klaus sat in the abandoned bar alone with a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in front of him and a full glass of the amber liquid. His tolerance, after a thousand years of wine, ale and spirits, is a remarkable sight but today he's gone above and beyond that line. The fact that he hadn't fed today always contributed to the state of inebriation he's found himself in but it was all for a good cause; the cause of dulling down that feeling of betrayal twisting his gut and shutting up the voice inside his head that continued to try and persuade him to take his revenge.

He doesn't even take a moment to consider why the voice sounds like hers, whispering sweet words of temptation into his ear. That red haired little witch who had walked into his life and revealed how blind he'd been for a century, not seeing what was plainly in front of him. She had suited him and booted him and sent him off to seek revenge for both of them like a soldier sent off to war.

The door opened and shut, bringing in a cold New Orleans breeze and Klaus barked at the newcomer to go away and find another of the Quarter's public houses to drown their sorrows in as he's already claimed this one. There was no response as heeled boots clicked their way across the wooden floors and a familiar smell filled his nose, a blend of lemon, bergamot, and jasmine that he remembered from when the woman he attributed to that smell leaned in close to him and let him breathe her in so he would never forget.

Klaus finished off his glass as Genevieve silently came up behind him and he waited for her to speak. It had been three days since she'd revealed the truth to him, three days since she'd slunk into the shadows and made him question that she was ever really there at all. He didn't want to spare her a glance. "Might I join you?" She asked him in her sultry yet innocent voice.

"By all means, take a seat." He replied gruffly.

She slipped onto the stool next to him with poise and grace, crossing one leg over the other as the fabric of her tights stretched over her thighs. She swore a dark red sweater dress that hit just above her knee, some black winter tights and some long black leather heeled boots that screamed 'dressed to kill'. Genevieve threw her red locks over her shoulder and placed the clutch she'd been carrying on the bar, turning her eyes on him intently like she was searching for something in his features or his soul.

Klaus took a second glass out and poured her one without asking if she wanted one, sliding it over to her. She caught it wordlessly and took a sip, her nimble fingers wrapped around the glass carefully. He watched her as she closed her eyes, savouring the taste of the divine ambrosia that was the aged whiskey he'd been favouring today. Her silver tongue swept across her lips to catch any remaining residue there and Klaus watched the motion raptly.

"That's simply delicious." She commented offhandedly, swirling what remained in her glass before taking another sip. The word delicious on her lips caused the memory of tasting this redhead's blood to come to the hybrid; the ruby red elixir that pumped through her body trickling down his throat, simultaneously fuelling his blood lust and healing his broken soul to prepare him for battle. The taste stayed on the back of his throat, no matter how much Klaus drank or how much he fed. No, delicious was too lax a description. Addictive would be closer.

"What are you doing here, Genevieve?" He asked her.

She considered her answer carefully; he could see the cogs turning in her mind. He may be interested, intrigued by this redheaded delight but one wrong word would mean the end for her and this time, there was no dark magic or chains to hold him back and keep her in control. Klaus could tell that she liked being in control, and right now she had not one drop. "Would it shock you to hear that I've been thinking of you?" She asked him curiously, arching one eyebrow over her glass as she took another sip.

Klaus chuckled darkly. "I've been told I leave a lasting impression on people." He retorted. She smirked in response and put her glass down. The hand that had been holding her glass moved to his upper arm, Klaus watched as her warm touch embraced him again. There was something dangerous yet soothing about the way she could touch him, stroke his hair, and cup his cheek with such ease and no visible fear. He'd killed for less, Klaus reminded himself.

"I have something to show you." Genevieve told him, her eyes on his as he took a final sip of his whiskey. She smiled this tiny, secret smile that made him feel like they were two conspirators in some grand plot, not two drunks sitting in a bar whilst his family left him abandoned and hers laid dead and buried. His eyebrows popped up in question and captivation, begging for her to go on but she didn't. She withdrew, her hand slipping back into her lap and her eyes became guarded. "But first, I need to know a few things, I need reassurances that this will be worth my troubles."

"That highly depends on what you're offering me." Klaus replied simply. He was not an easy man to please, but when he was, he was generous. His rewards reflected the worth of what was offered, even if it meant simply their life and the clothes on their back. It was more than some got. For the first time, Genevieve looked uneasy and it was not a good look on her. She suited confidence and assurance; the embodiment of hell hath no fury. In these flashes of insecurity, Klaus saw the girl in 1919 that had foolishly been led astray by his sister.

It lasted a second and Genevieve was speaking again. "Did you mean what you said in the sanatorium?" She asked him. Klaus knew what she meant, the promise he'd made her. Rewards beyond her wildest imaginings in exchange for betraying her sisters in witchcraft and standing by his side. He understood why she struggled to believe him; words whispered through prison bars lose their touch. Promises seem hard to keep when the one pledging is chained to a table and with only one person as their means of escape. Klaus could have been lying through his teeth, meaning to snap her neck the moment she released him.

"My offer was sincere as they come, sweetheart, I would have given you the world over in exchange for your loyalty." He assured her between sips of whiskey. Klaus was a man of his word, he would have rewarded the auburn haired witch before with riches that would have made her head spin. "Alas, you decided to take a different path." He reminded her bitterly.

"And the offer? It still stands?" She asked him softly. Klaus looked the redhead in the eyes with curiosity, trying to decipher what she was getting at. Was she considering defecting to his side, where he stood alone right now? Had she decided to betray Celeste and Bastianna for him or was this so elaborate plot? More games? She smirked when she saw the reservations in his eyes. "No games, no plots, no hijinks and nothing up my sleeve. Just give your word and I'll show you what I came here for." Genevieve announced confidently.

Klaus didn't take long to consider, something in this girl's eyes made him trust her like she could stare into his soul and still like what she saw. "You have my word that the offer still stands; all you could hope for and more." He promised.

She smiled a wicked, conspirator's smile. "Then you best put the booze down and come with me."

* * *

Genevieve led him to the cemetery, the same one he'd been stuck in for a whole night with his siblings, and pushed the iron-wrought gate open. It creaked under her grip, the hybrid slipping in after her and she locked it behind. She didn't answer to his questioning glances as she looped the chain around the railings and clicked an old lock shut. She turned and held a bronze key, old and the size of her thumb, out to him. "A good faith gesture." She explained.

Klaus knitted his brow together as he took the key and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Who in their right mind would lock themselves in a cemetery with a monster and give him the only key to get out? He thought to himself as she led him further into the graveyard, her fingers brushing the old stones of the tombs as she went. Her hips swung to her own rhythm as they approached a tomb, the same tomb that Elijah had brought him to when he'd found out about his child. She stopped.

"What's this?" He asked, observing the old, crumbling tomb and then the red head standing in front of it with a proud air about her.

"This is my standing by your side. You might want to have a look inside. Don't worry, their bark is worse than their bite right now." She explained, pushing the Iron Gate that acted as a door and gesturing for him to go inside. Still, Klaus thought about the risks of walking inside, there might be a boundary spell on the building, she may mean to lock him inside and let him starve. She noticed his hesitation and stepped inside the tomb, her heels clicking against the stones. "You can lock us both in if you like, if it'll ease your troubles. That key is a skeleton key." She suggested from the shadows in an almost teasing tone.

"That won't be necessary, sweetheart." He assured her as he stepped inside. She smirked and tilted her head; the low burning candles of the tomb became bright and illuminating in more ways than one. Klaus finally understood why she had needed his assurance. He turned to her in disbelief for a few seconds and she nodded as if to confirm what he was seeing before him was real. That she saw it too, and she was the culprit.

Against the wall of the tombs, chained by the wrists and unconscious, were Celeste and Bastianna. Blood dribbled down Celeste's face from a wound on her forehead but Bastianna looked less battered. Their ankles were tied in rope and there was a smoking bowl of herbs and other scents that he remembered from his mother's spells a thousand years, a spell that prevented the use of magic. Klaus then noticed a sprig of nightshade woven into Genevieve's bracelet, protecting her from her own magic as she observed her good work.

"You did this?" He asked her, still not sure what to think. She nodded.

"It was easy to capture Bastianna, she's old and trusting. A sip of herbs in her drink and she was down. Celeste…well she wasn't so easy. She tried to fight back with magic but even the most powerful witch can't stop the effects of a brick against the forehead." She smirked as she watched over to the pot that was still smoking to check that it was still working. When the witches awoke, they would need to be powerless. The smoke wrapped around the unconscious witches and Klaus watched as it crept into their systems.

"And why would you turn on your witch companions and hand them over to?" He asked simply, beginning over to her until she was nearly pressed against the wall and he loomed over her, their faces close as they'd been in the hospital. She didn't show any signs of fear or discomfort, she seemed to revel in his proximity. He shouldn't have been surprised when her fingers brushed just above his covered pectoral before her hand lay there.

"How else would I get you to trust me?" She asked him in a musing tone. "Maybe I wanted you to have something to ease your pain, maybe I wanted to be on the winning side and I'm bored of the games these two seemed content to play until the end of time. Maybe I wanted to cash in on your offer before it was too late." She mused, her breath brushing over his skin, her fragrant smell wrapping around him and pulling him in.

Klaus pondered her reasons for a second, his fingers coming up to brush a few strands of her bright hair from her eyes without touching her skin. She took a deep breath in and held his eyes. "And what do you suggest that I do with them?" He asked her curiously lowly.

"Bastianna cursed your friend, the priest, if she dies then the curse will be lifted. I'm sure that you're already familiar with such a phenomena." She advised, casting a look at the witch in question. Klaus had seen as such when Elijah had slaughtered the elders of the witch community in exchange for Hayley and the baby that grew within her, and he knew that she spoke the truth. Kieran would be free if Klaus killed this witch. He smirked.

"Wonderful recommendation." He told her approvingly.

In the next second, he'd flashed so he was kneeling by Bastianna's side and latched his fangs into her neck. He cradled her head tightly in his hands as he drank deeply and felt her jolt awake and begin to fight with no avail. Klaus hadn't realised how thirsty he had been until the blood had hit his throat, filling a need he'd been neglecting for so long that he wouldn't stop until the body was dry. Eventually, Bastianna stopped kicking and went lax in his grip.

All the time he drank, Genevieve watched with fascination and not a hint of pity or regret. She knew what Bastianna had done, slicing open the throats of children and cursing innocents. When Klaus turned from the witch's body with blood dripping from his lips and his eyes shifting from hybrid to human, she straightened up a little but she didn't fear him. He smirked and wiped the blood from his chin, slipping his fingers into his mouth to suck the remnants of blood there.

Klaus felt Genevieve's eyes on him, allured and alluring at the same time, and his smirk became a devilishly grin. She batted her eyelashes as he brought his fingers from his mouth, his mind working. Before he could open his mouth to question why she didn't find his true self something to fear as he ripped out a witch's throat in front of her, there was movement behind him. Genevieve's eyes moved from his to behind him with a smirk that matched his.

He turned to see Celeste coming around, her eyes opening to Bastianna's mangled and bloody body. She didn't scream but she looked panicked when she realised where she was and how incapacitated she was and who she was with. Her eyes locked with Klaus and he smirked once more, but they quietly flickered to Genevieve's as she moved to stand by Klaus' side. "Traitorous bitch. He's just going to turn on you like he turns on every one. His friends, his siblings, his own mother…" Celeste announced.

Klaus flashed to Celeste and clamped a hand around her neck, choking her tightly. He looked over at Genevieve who still didn't show any sort of uncertainty or regret over her actions, she looked anticipating like she was waiting for him to rip into Celeste's throat as well. Her eyes were dark as she waited for him to make the next move; the only sound was Celeste gasping for air. Klaus smirked and released her, standing up and moving to Genevieve's side once more.

"Going to draw this out I see, or are you going to drown me again for poetic irony, Klaus?" Celeste taunted in a weak voice, still getting air back into her lungs. Klaus grinned and turned to the red haired witch.

"Your turn, sweetheart." He announced lowly as if they were the only two people in the room. Genevieve looked shocked for a second but not disgusted or put off or even unwilling. She hadn't expected to play a role once she handed them over to Klaus, he would kill them and then she would be safe. Celeste looked just as shaken by this turn of events but more confident with this new information, as if she could talk Genevieve out of it.

Well, she would have a hard time against a man with as silver a tongue as his, he thought as he brushed some more hair out of Genevieve's face and began to mutter softly and almost lovingly. The witch kept her eyes on Celeste. "Think about it, she killed Papa Tunde with not a single thought and replaced him with Monique Deveraux. What do you think her plans were for her when you outlived your usefulness to her?" He theorized.

"He's lying, Genevieve, he's manipulating you."

"Perhaps, or maybe she's manipulating you. I'll bet that she would have killed you herself if she'd discovered that you were going to tell me the truth in 1919, so desperate for her own revenge that she would let a friend suffer." Klaus continued to speak, moving so he was behind Genevieve and took her shoulders in his hands and began to murmur in her ear gently. He sensed a shiver that ran down her spine and her hand moved out as if she was reaching towards Celeste. "You were a means to an end for her, destined to die again whilst she took body after body."

Celeste began to beg Genevieve to see it her way but didn't finish her sentence because she was too busy screaming in pain. Genevieve flexed her fingers and the candles' flames whirled in an imagined wind as Celeste began to writhe in pain, curling in on herself. Klaus smirked and stayed close, encouraging her wordlessly and enjoying the way her features became darker and she looked like she had holding the knife in her bloodied hand over him in the asylum, dark and powerful.

Blood poured from Celeste's nose and her eyes, her ears and soon she was choking on her own blood. Klaus squeezed the witch' shoulders once as his breath tickled her ear, admiring her work as she began to speak. "It's time for you to rot on the other side, Celeste. You won't be coming back any time soon." Genevieve vowed, muttering a few words in Latin before Celeste's body went limp and the tomb was plunged into darkness.

When the candles came back up, lit purely by magic, Klaus had stepped away so he was standing beside the witch again. She was still looking at the bloodied corpse in front of her, the one she'd been the cause of with a look that Klaus had seen in himself. Satisfaction in the kill, she was pleased with herself. How was it possible that this witch, the sworn enemy of his kind, was more like a vampire than a human? For a second, Klaus wanted to force his blood down her throat and snap her neck but it's a fleeting moment. She was most magnificent when magic flowed through her and no vampire had ever kept their magic.

Eventually, they locked eyes. It's a moment of burning into each other's pupils and daring the other to look away. Genevieve's heart is thumping from exhilaration and he can feel the satisfaction and the effects of her high rolling off her in waves, as well as an almost magnetic pulse between them that seemed organic and all powerful, leaving him drawn to her and her to him. He remembered in earlier centuries when the chase and the kill had been new and exciting. That worn off but the satisfaction of a well executed kill never did.

They didn't speak for a minute or so, they just breathed and kept their eyes on each other's. He knew that his were dark with a hunger that couldn't be satisfied with blood. "What do we do with the bodies?" She asked. Klaus found the 'we' comforting, they were truly partners in crime, accomplices with equal measures of blame. Klaus hadn't had that since Stefan Salvatore in the twenties and a very long time before that.

"We leave them. I'm sure some witch will find them when their corresponding teenage girl rises from the dead in a few hours' time." He assured her, beginning to the door and opening it for her. She nodded, casting one more smirk at the bodies they were leaving abandoned, and began past him confidently and calmly. There was no shakiness, or fear, or regret. She was exactly as she had been when she'd walked into the cemetery.

Klaus watched her go, his eyes following the curves of her body as she walked. He followed, the candles flickering to darkness once she stepped over the threshold into the open air. She looked around the cemetery as if she was checking that there was nobody lurking. "Does it always feel like that?" She asked him, turning back to him with her heated gaze making him feel warm and like someone was seeing him and accepting him as he stood before them for the first time in a long time. No conditions, no deals, no adjustments; just him and her in the moonlight.

The hybrid stepped closer to the witch until they were inches apart again. "Like what? What exactly is it supposed to be like, sweetheart?" He replied lowly, his voice becoming darker and gruffer as he breathed her in once more. Her intoxicating fragrance, the smell of her blood infused with magic, the steady beat of her heart. Very few women had been this close to him without their hearts thumping like scared little rabbits being chased by the big bad wolf but hers remained steady.

"The feeling of power, consuming fiery…power...having someone's life in your hand and crushing it…it feels…." She breathed as they came closer and closer. His hand came up to play with one of her waves of red hair, holding it lightly between his thumb and forefinger. The back of his hand skimmed her cheek and her heartbeat thumped loudly, causing Klaus to smirk. Her eyes flickered to his lips then to his eyes almost in question.

Klaus never found out how it felt because before she could speak again, he claimed her lips, cupping the back of her neck as he did so. He was desperate for her touch, the way it cooled and scorched his skin at the same time like it had in the sanatorium when she'd laid her hands on him affectionately, whispered in his ear like he was her lover and not her enemy. She gave him what she wanted, cupping either side of his jawline with both hands to gain some control of their embrace.

He gave it to her, moving his hands to her waist and pulling her close to his body until she was tight against him. Her curves felt perfectly slotted against him as he moved to press her against the brick wall that made the side of the tomb. Dust leapt from the old structure from the force of his movements and she gasped, her supple and pliable body not used to being tossed about. He didn't let up, lifting her up by her thighs and letting her wrap her legs around his waist.

Her nimble fingers pushed the jacket from his shoulders and he let her take it off him but she didn't move to take off his shirt. It was after all the dead of winter and the dead of night, he could see their breath when they exhaled and gasped at the sensations they were bringing each other. She moaned into his mouth as his teeth nipped at her lips and his tongue swept into her mouth, not even stopping to question this before responding.

Both of them were on the high of murder, frantic for some sort of comfort, another dark creature's touch to remind them how black and hungry betrayal made the soul. Klaus had been angry and drunk for the better part of the last three days and both of them had had their encounter together stuck in their minds. The big bad wolf and the little red haired witch made quite the pair.

Klaus moved one hand from her thighs, pressing her tighter between his torso and the wall to hold her up as his hands wandered under the fabric of the warm burgundy sweater dress she wore to cup her breast over her lace bra. Genevieve let out a whimper as he pushed the cup of the bra aside and his thumb circled her nipple, feeling the cold even through her layers. All this time their lips remained attached, as did their hips, grinding on each other almost in an almost primal fashion.

Genevieve whined, rolling her hips into his with a precision he had not expected her to possess. Klaus obliged her wordless plea as her hands moved to the buckle of his belt, fumbling as she undid the latch and whipped the leather garment through the loops, tossing it aside with little care. The key to the gate was after all in his jacket on the floor, they would remain undisturbed unless the dead decided to stir.

She popped the button on his jeans as he bunched her dress up to her waist and ripped her tights down the middle to expose her red lace underwear. Her lower back scraped against the old bricks of the tomb as she pushed his jeans and underwear past his hips to his knees. Klaus chuckled as he ripped off and discarded her soaking panties with little thought, claiming her lips once more as he teased her entrance once, twice and then thrust into her.

The sound that she made was carnal and came from a dark place, it was lust and passion and sex personified. Klaus told himself that this was not how it was going to end for them, he would make her scream so loud right here right now that she might wake the dead and then take her home to his bed. He would lay her down on his sheets and kiss the scrapes on her back, make her tremble and swear and beg for his touch. It was just the prologue, riding the high of their bloodlust.

"Nik…" She gasped with no shame at using his nickname. It hadn't been the first time she'd used it and Klaus loved the way it sounded on her lips especially when she was whining it desperately like a wanton. Her hips moved against hers like they made to grind with his. Her hands roamed his back, his curls, and his neck as she clung to him for the ride. His lips stayed on her skin, roaming along to kiss down her neck. She only groaned when his fangs teased her jugular even though not ten minutes ago she'd watched him tear another's throat out.

His eyes shifted yellow and inhuman as he nuzzled into her neck but he didn't bite her, enjoying the way she tried not to scream. Her walls clenched around him and the muscles of her abdomen fluttered with every sob and moan. He chuckled darkly as she cussed softly in a plea, the word seemed foreign on her lips after seeing her in 1919. Such a good girl gone back, turned dark, a little lamb led astray. He smirked at that notion and thrust just a little harder, determined to make her for relief.

When she finally found that relief, she moaned his name and he claimed her lips once more. Her hips continued to roll the whole time, coaxing him into joining her into a new sort of high. They'd shared the unbeatable rush that came with taking a life and now they shared the elevation of making someone whisper your name as they came. Their kisses became slower and soon they were just leaning against each other, catching their breath and their foreheads resting together. Despite his recent feed and his strength, Klaus' legs were unsteady and Genevieve's heart beat wildly.

Eventually she let out a small breathy laugh, not a giggle but musical none the same. He can't help but join in.

* * *

Klaus walked from the bathroom where he'd been washing some blood off his skin and smirked at the sight that awaited him in the bed. Genevieve was stretched out and twisted in the sheets, wearing one of his shirts and her bra. He smirked and tossed aside the hand towel he'd been using to dry his hand, climbing into the bed beside the redhead.

He was careful not to wake her, slipping underneath her and moving her head onto his chest as she grumbled in her sleep. Klaus looked out of the window at the full moon, remembering how he'd been dealing with some werewolves just half an hour ago. She'd opted out of going, exhausted from her day. They rarely spent the day together; they could go a long time without each other. Genevieve went about organizing the witches of the Quarter and Klaus continued with his work.

But at the end of the day, one of them would climb into bed next to the one who collapsed their first. Klaus would sometimes find Genevieve in the bed and pull her back against his chest like he did now; sometimes he would wake in the night to find Genevieve curled up against him like he was her lifeline. She fell into deep slumbers and he couldn't wake her if he tried, not that he wanted to. Genevieve looked beautiful when she slept.

Klaus turned to see Genevieve's eyes flutter open and her tongue poke out to wet her dry lips. She looked up at him and smirked back at him when she saw his knowing smile. Klaus wrapped his arm around her waist and shifted his hand under the shirt she wore to unlatch her bra. "Ah, I see. Done with your business and now you're going to disrupt my beauty sleep." She chuckled, propping herself up on her elbow and giving him a look.

"Don't act like you don't love it." He replied. "Or that you're innocent in the same crimes." Klaus added. She smirked and cupped his jaw, pressing her lips to his and bringing him closer to her. He threaded his fingers into her bright read hair to keep her against him and smirked against her lips. He put another hand on her hip and pushed her into the mattress, kissing along her jaw.

"You're right, I do love it." She murmured before moaning. Klaus smirked. He loved it just as much as she did. And one day, if he was lucky, he might love her.


End file.
